Like Father, Like Son
by ClarySpeakman
Summary: Clary is in grave danger as everything she's ever known crumbles down around her. Will Sebastian see the light and save her? P.S. Yes, I have used a quote from the actual book, City of Heavenly Fire!


Mundies, Sebastian thought as he strode among the limp bodies crowding the citys streets, were utterly oblivious to their worth. They had the whole world at their fingertips, the choices in the palm of their hands, and they just discarded it like unwanted trash. Their lives, wasted. Occasionally he found himself envious of mundanes, for they had something he didn't, something he'd never had in his upbringing: a family. Love. Affection. Valentine had used him, used him as nothing but a tool at his own advantage, and he'd let him. His throat burned with hatred, so intense it made tears well in his eyes.

Tears? he thought.

He cleared his throat, blinking them away desperately. Never had he exposed his weaknesses, to anyone. Except his father, who had made his throat sizzle with tears and his back burn with bone-deep burrows as he'd brought the whip down, repeatedly.

_"Jonathan!"_ shouted a voice.

He froze, rocked back on his heels. Clary's voice. His little sister, calling for him. _She is nothing like me_, he told himself over and over again. _She is nothing. Nothing to me_.

It came again, louder and insistent, edged with pain, bouncing off the walls. "Jonathan! Please!" Her voice was softening, gurgling even. "I need you!"

His heart hammering in his chest, he seized Maeleartach from his weapons belt, and shoved his way through the roaring crowd. The Dark Shadowhunters sprung aside at the sight of the Soul Sword in his hand, creating a path down the center of Fifth Avenue in their wake. New York was a blur of black smoke, thicker and darker in places, and the choking scent filled the air. Through the haze Sebastian could make out dark shapes darting here and there, to and fro, and back again, leaving a body as it slumped to the ground. He payed no attention to them; Clary, he thought, all he cared about was Clary.

The screams of the night pierced his ears. He blocked out their sound and concentrated on his sister's pleading voice, calling his name. At last he saw her, and his breath caught in his throat. She stood - or rather, clung - to the road. A massive dip had opened up in the center of it, revealing a bottomless cliff that vanished into nothingness. Darkness. Her feet scraped across the jagged rocks as she fought, fought and screamed. Her small hands gripped at the road above her, fingernails torn and bleeding.

"Help! Somebody!" she cried.

Sebastian stood watching her for a moment, fascinated by her ability to fight for what she wanted, to strive for it. It satisfied him, watching her squirm and plead. He thought maybe now that she'd experienced what it was like to fight for something she wanted, maybe she would understand why it was his duty to rid the world of Shadowhunters, because it was what he wanted.

He knelt down above her, held out his hand while his other grasped the dagger. "Clary," he said gently.

When she looked up, he saw that her face was wet with tears. Something about her expression made him gasp - she looked almost... grateful, as if she were pleased to see him. His eyes bored into hers. He willed them to move, but they were glued to her face, unwilling.

"Sebastian," she whispered, eyeing his hand with an uncertain look. Hatred replaced the otherwise grateful look in her eyes. He thought for a panicked moment that she was going to let go of the rocks. "_Get away from me." _

Sebastian sighed. It was what he'd been expecting. "You called for me, little sister. And I came. A little gratitude would be nice."

"Gratitude?" She looked incredulous. "I hate you," she spat. "You killed Max. You destroyed my family. You killed innocent people. I hate you, and I like that I hate you."

He looked down at her just as a building clashed to the ground on the other side of the cliff, sending up a cloud of glass and smoke. Clary had always fascinated him with her absurd remarks. It was one of the many things he adored about her. "I did," he said at last. "Kill Max, that is. You needn't remind me, Clary. I was there. It was an accident-"

"It was an accident you did on purpose!"

"No," he said. "I never intended to kill him. Only to knock him unconscious, like I did Isabelle-"

"You stabbed Luke!" she pointed out. "Oh, but don't worry. I'm sure you have a perfect excuse for that."

"Look, Clary. This isn't the time to talk. Grab my hand." He thrust his hand forward. "I'll tell you everything once you're safe."

Clary, after a moment's hesitation, took it. Her palm was slippery with blood, and he jerked, hauling her upward and onto the road. She stood and looked up at him with wide green eyes. She was so small, he thought, and yet deadly. "I don't care for what you have to say," she ground out. "Nothing can change what you did. 'It was accident.'" She threw up her arms. "They're just words, Sebastian. Meaningless words."

"Clarissa," he said. He liked the sound of her name on his lips, the way his tongue curled over the 'r'. "You look so much like your mother. It's a shame, really. I thought you were exactly like me. But you're the opposite. You're everything I fear to become."

She blinked. "What?"

"Our father," he amended. "He raised me, created a replicate of himself to carry out his intentions to destroy the world. Our mother, raised you, and look what she made you. A warrior who has power over everything and yet knows when enough is enough."

Clary stared at him, dazed. "What... What are you saying?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, a spark of silver sliced through the air behind Clary.

"Clary!" he shouted, and moved as if to push her aside, but it was too late.

The girl sagged forward in his arms as he caught her, and he saw for the first time the dagger protruding from her back. He jerked it savagely by its hilt and threw it aside where it clattered down the rocks of the cliff.

Clary gasped, her hands fisting in his shirt sleeves. Lowering her to the ground, he held her in his arms, feeling the horror sink in. He looked down at her ashen face, the blood pouring from her mouth - and fought back the scream of rage in his throat. No, he thought with dread. Not Clary. The only remaining family he had left, and he held her, falling limp in his arms.

"Clary," he whispered. He touched her cheek. "Clary, stay with me. Don't you dare leave me."

Her green gaze fixed on him, and she smiled, a weak smile. "Sebastian..."

Sebastian shook her, not gently. "No!" He choked on something in his throat, but he didn't know what. "No, you can't do this to me. Stay _with_ me, you understand? Stay with me."

"Jace," she said. "Tell Jace I... I love him. And... Simon... And Alec..." More blood poured from her mouth. She coughed. "Sebastian... I..."

He strained to hear her words. "What was that?"

"It's a little ironic... isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Spending all this... time trying to convince you I wasn't in... love with you, and now here I am... dying... in your arms."

Her words shook him. He gulped, trying to male sense of them. "Clary, I..." He struggled for the right words. "I'm... sorry. Sorry that you're dying."

She smiled a little.

And then she gurgled, her eyes rolling back to the whites.

Panicking, Sebastian shook her again, ferociously this time. "No, no, no. _Stay with me, Clary_. Stay..."

And then, on a final breath, she whispered, "I forgive you."

And then she died in his arms. He felt the life go out of her like a bulb losing its light. Her body going heavy in his arms, her eyes wide, skin ashen. He realized something then. Realized that what he had been choking on earlier hadn't been words at all, but tears.

They spilled down his cheeks now, and he glanced around him in horror. Maybe his sister had been right all along - maybe he was a monster.


End file.
